۶ৎ he knew every part of you. every part he's ever loved and adored. that'd be great, if only he remembered that you're the one he loves.
"katsuki? what are you doing?" mitsuki caught her son trying to make a cup of hot chocolate at 6 in the morning. the boy never drinks hot chocolate.
"hot chocolate. I just-" katsuki didn't know what to answer his mother either. why was he trying to make that damn drink? mitsuki could only look at her son with pity. you loved hot chocolate.
it's been a month since the war ended, and just a few weeks after katsuki had been let out of the hospital. ever since he woke up, he started doing routines that he seemed all too accustomed too, he just didn't know how or why. whenever he left the house he made sure to bring an extra water bottle with him. just like he is now, he makes a cup of hot chocolate every saturday. just for it to be set aside the whole day, untouched. he keeps checking his phone, as if anticipating a message. he just didn't know from who.
the strangest things have been happening to him for weeks and it only frustrated him even more. when he first woke up, he was met with your face. you were seated beside him, cradling his left hand while waiting for him to open his eyes. he didn't know who you were. why the hell would his mom let a stranger into his hospital room?
despite his unfamiliarity with you, there was an ache in his chest seeing tears roll down your cheeks when his eyes finally adjusted to the light. he was desperate to hold your cheek and tell you everything would be okay. that he would be okay.
"I'll take that for you, hon." it irked katsuki how strange his mom has been acting too. since when was she so soft with him? and why did she care so much for you?
the day of his discharge from the hospital, he saw the two of you together. mitsuki was handing you a cup of something. was that hot chocolate? you were staring to tear up again. katsuki felt as if the air was punched out of his lungs when he saw the gloss over your eyes.
mitsuki finally noticed him standing to the side and quickly walked over to him. you only glanced over and offered him a wave and a gentle smile, despite your tears. it took everything in him to restraint himself from walking past his mom to you and to bring you in his arms.
he didn't know who you were. but he cared. he hated to see you cry, and he hated how upset you looked at the sight of him.
now, the chocolate drink sat cold on the kitchen counter. he forgot to put the marshmallows in. the chocolate was missing one of the most important parts of it. who told him that again?
he'd have to remember the marshmallows next time. but then again, no one would be drinking that anymore anyway.
Imagine being Bakugo’s S/O in the final battle and you’re both killed at the same time, lying together. It’s a horrific sight, even more disturbing when your broken bodies are still holding hands, like you two knew what would happen and wanted to stay together.
When Edgeshot realises he can bring you back to life, he also realises he can only do so for one.
Bakugo’s more powerful than you. Everyone knows it. And yet they still hesitate, because they also know Bakugo adores you. If you don’t come back, then there’s a chance his heart could give out from sheer grief alone.
But it’s a chance they have to take. Best Jeanist tries to move your body so Bakugo won’t see it and it can’t be Decayed, all the while mourning you. You’re still warm, your hand still reaching out for Bakugo. Most heroes are too busy to experience love, and some of them don’t even know what a true love feels like. Best Jeanist thinks you and Bakugo have taught him what it is from the day you two came into his hero agency. He recalls the Sports Festival commentary, telling everyone about how the pair of you were always side by side ever since Bakugo asked you out at age 10, on the same day your elementary class learnt about what girlfriends and boyfriends were.
Seven years is what you and Bakugo had together. That’s more than what most adult relationships have, and yet it’s too little for the pair of you.
Best Jeanist turns one last time so you can see Bakugo’s body one last time. So Bakugo can see you too, in a way. So you can see his heart only beat for you. Jeanist only hopes it can continue beating now yours has stopped.
Bakugo wakes up in the hospital after everything. Now the fight response isn’t activated, he can focus on you. But you’re not in the room. Shit, you must’ve been hurt more than he thought.
Mitsuki gasps as he wakes up. So his parents are here.
“Hag,” he gets out, “which room is Y/N in?” He moves to sit up despite the way his father pleads for him not to yet. Bakugo doesn’t give a shit. He’ll crawl to your room by his fingertips if he has to.
“Katsuki,” his mother begins. Bakugo stares at her and that’s when Mitsuki breaks, crying for you. Crying for the girl she’d always assumed to be her daughter in law one day.
Something cold runs through Bakugo. “Where’s Y/N? Is it bad? Is… is she in a coma?”
Masaru puts his hand on Bakugo’s shoulder. “They tried everything they could. She was gone almost immediately. You nearly went with her.” Nearly. Bakugo had stayed. You’d left. That didn’t make sense. You two never went anywhere without each other. Why would he stay?
The heart monitor starts beeping at an alarming rate as he starts to work out what happened. Shigaraki had lunged for him. You’d moved in seconds after he’d been hit, exposing yourself too.
“No,” he says. “No. Fucking funny joke.” He looks at Mitsuki. “Hag, where is she? Hag. Mom.”
Mitsuki shakes her head. “She didn’t make it, Katsuki. Like Masaru said, they tried everything.”
No. No, they didn’t. If he’d come back, why couldn’t you? You wanted to be a hero too. You had plans - the two of you had plans. You were already thinking of your future together, and charted a rota for who’d be doing hero work on each day of the week after you two had children.
“No!” Bakugo yells despite the pain it causes. “No. She’s got you two in on it. She’s gonna walk through the door in a minute, and prove you two wrong. She’s… She’s gonna… She’s…”
His mother never cries for anyone outside the family. She’d accepted you as her daughter years ago. Now Mitsuki is sobbing, wrapping her arms around him.
“I’m sorry, baby. She tried so hard. But you held her. She wasn’t scared because she had you.” She doesn’t know that. Who’s to say you weren’t terrified out of your mind? Or even worse: you felt safe until Bakugo was brought back and ripped away from you. Now you’re somewhere he can’t follow you.
Bakugo’s body feels numb as his parents try to comfort him. He can hear his heartbeat. A heart that shouldn’t be beating. It should be yours that he can hear. His mind flashes to the times you snuck into each other’s dorms, times so often that Aizawa had to have known and just given up on separating you, and the way you’d hold each other if you had nightmares. He can hear your heartbeat even now. It’s clearer to him than his own.
Only now it’s stopped forever.
Izuku wonders if Bakugo did stay dead in a way. At least, a small part of him died when you did. To the onlooker’s eye, he’s still the same, but Izuku grew up with the two of you. He knows that you two had that epic love only reserved for stories.
It’s only a story now anyway.
It’s been eight years since you left. He and Bakugo visit each anniversary of your death day, but he knows Bakugo goes most days. After a tiring patrol when he needs someone to talk to, and on a weekend he has free, or just whenever he thinks you need him. His parents visit you too. Mitsuki called Izuku asking for help after she found Bakugo sat in the rain at your grave, unwilling to move. Because even though he hated the rain, you always made him dance with you in it.
Everyone from 1A is starting to settle down now. At each wedding, there’s an empty seat for you. Bakugo always sits next to it, a wedding band on his finger. He was going to ask you anyway. Izuku wouldn’t be surprised if you two had the ceremony planned out already.
Bakugo won’t move on, and Izuku knows it. His only love is his hero work, because you wouldn’t want him to wallow in pity for you.
Izuku does he think he sees you in the same way he sees Shigaraki. You’re always at Bakugo’s side. A ghost on the edge of things, not quite tangible and more like a distant daydream of summer and warmth and all things wonderful. But then, as all wonderful things must do, you’re gone again.
Izuku doesn’t think you’ve left entirely though. In the same way a piece of Bakugo stayed with you in the afterlife, a part of you stayed here with him. After all, you two proved it with your shared deaths: you two wanted to stay together.
You realized on a random Wednesday that Bakugou never really liked you.
Well, not like that.
He tolerated you plenty, more so than you’d like to admit—and for a time, you took that as a win because almost everyone wanted to be in the presence of someone like him.
But he never really like-liked you. Like, to the point where it could evolve to the other L word that is most definitely not leprosy.
Bakugou Katsuki had always been like that—distant in his own way, even when he was standing right in front of you. He wasn’t unkind, not to you. In fact, he’d always been good at offering you the little scraps of care that kept your foolish heart hoping. A sharp “watch your step” when you nearly tripped during training, a muttered “good job” when you nailed your technique after weeks of frustration, and the rare nod of acknowledgment when you beat your own time during your drills.
It was those little things that made you think there might be something more.
And maybe the fact you let your delusions get the best of you.
A thought between “it is” and “was it really ever casual?”
But lately, you’d started to notice where his gaze lingered. Not on you, not really. His eyes were always somewhere else—on the finish line, on the next fight, on someone who wasn’t you.
It hit you during lunch, of all times.
The cafeteria was loud with chatter, the usual noise of the class among the other students bouncing off the walls. You sat across from him, your trays between you, and he was eating with that familiar single-minded focus that made everything else fade into background noise. You’d been saying something about the new internship placements—you couldn’t even remember what anymore—when he cut you off without even realizing it.
“I need to shave two seconds off my time before the next mock battle,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his chopsticks paused mid-air.
You blinked, your food halfway to your mouth. “Oh. Yeah, I guess that’d be good.”
He didn’t hear you.
He was already gone, already somewhere in his head, running through strategies, calculating outcomes.
And you knew.
You knew that no matter how many late-night talks you shared after training, no matter how many times you tried to peel back his layers and understand him, you would never be the center of his world.
You would always be orbiting him, watching him chase something bigger, something brighter than anything you could offer.
You had asked him dozens of questions before—about his favorite food, about his childhood dreams—about what kind of hero he wanted to be. He’d answer most of them, sometimes grudgingly, sometimes with a smirk like you were being nosy, sometimes with that rare, unguarded honesty that made your chest ache—because, wow, it’s always different whenever Bakugou answers them.
But he never asked you anything back.
Not because he didn’t care, but because he didn’t think to.
And maybe that was worse.
Because how could you hold it against someone when their heart simply wasn’t pointed in your direction?
You excused yourself after lunch, your smile tight, and no one noticed when you slipped out early. Not even him.
Thank UA’s school administration for cutting class early for preparation for another irrelevant school event.
Your feet carried you to the courtyard behind the dorms, the one where the grass grew uneven and the noise of the common room couldn’t quite reach. You sat on the bench, tucking your knees to your chest, and let yourself breathe.
It hurt.
Way to point out the obvious.
Not in the way you thought heartbreak would hurt—devastating and dramatic and impossible to ignore. It was much quieter than you imagined, almost polite. A dull ache that settled in your chest and made everything feel a little heavier.
Because you had loved him. You really had.
You spent a good two and a half years learning more about him to determine whether your feelings for him are actual feelings and not just some fleeting, cruel limerence. Because you don’t deserve limerence; he doesn’t deserve that.
You had memorized the cadence of his voice, the way it softened when he was tired, the way it sharpened when he was excited. You had paid attention to the way his hands moved when he talked, the way his shoulders tensed right before he lost his temper, the way his smile looked when he thought no one was watching.
You had cared enough to know all those things.
And he—he had never asked you what you loved, what you feared, or what you wanted from the world beyond all of this.
Not because he was cruel.
But because you simply weren’t where his heart lived.
It lived in his goals, in his future, in some version of himself that he was still clawing his way toward. And maybe—maybe in someone who could run beside him without slowing him down. Someone who burned just as fiercely as he did.
Not you.
Or maybe he thought that there was no point in simply asking.
You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against your knees, and let yourself feel it. The sting of it, the loss of a fantasy future you’d built in your head, the quiet grief of realizing you had always been loving him alone.
You thought about all the times you’d waited for him after class, all the conversations where you’d tried to draw him out, all the little moments you’d saved like treasures.
And you let them go.
Well, not all in one go.
More like piecemeal. In fragments. Like shards of a broken mirror.
Not because you wanted to, but because you had to.
Bakugou would never change for you. He didn’t need to, and you shouldn’t—couldn’t ask him to.
Because you loved him as he is.
That’s the type of person you are.
And maybe, someday, you will stop caring.
Someday, you will wake up and realize you didn’t look for him first thing in the morning. Someday, you will hear his voice across the battlefield and it won’t make your heart jump. Someday, you would stop waiting for him to notice the things about you that you had been offering open arms all along.
But today wasn’t that day.
Today, you just sat there, breathing through the ache, letting it wash over you until it dulled enough that you could stand.
When you finally went inside the dorms, your face was calm again. No one would notice anything had changed. Not even him. You made sure.
And maybe that was okay.
Because loving Bakugou Katsuki had taught you something, even if it never became what you wanted.
It taught you that your heart was big enough to hold someone who might never hold you back.
And maybe, when you were ready, it would be big enough to let someone else in. Someone with an even bigger heart to hold yours.
note: this was originally a stand alone turned into a series, not proofread enjoy!
✦ ✦ ✦
you realize bakugo doesnt like you when your high.
it's unfortunate of course, the weed already has you paranoid about everything and now, sitting in between all his friends you realize he probably never did.
your rambling, bakugo next to you his eyes hazed slightly, he hasn't responded once but thats not particularly uncommon for the man.
it's when your mid sentence, egging for his attention when he interrupts you, a finger pressing on your lips, "wait be quiet, 'm tryna hear." and you stop, almost to shocked from the touch to realize what he means.
kirishima is below him speaking in hushed tones to denki about whatever nonsense they go on about. giggling and sharing puffs of smoke.
and you look at bakugou, his fingers back on his lips, and he smiles. white canines peeking from behind his knuckles.
you realize sero had been looking at you for a little bit, and your paranoia spikes tenfold.
you'd been loud, and ruining the vibe. katsuki, blunt as always swooped in as the hero to save everyone from your sickening voice.
you excuse yourself to the bathroom of the males house, trying to calm the hurt in your chest.
the unnoticed gestures, the dimissed words. it was all there.
you clenched your knees, your heart was at an erratic pace now.
the comments, the looks of dissaproval and shame. you'd never fit in with them, bakugo especially, he's never even saw you.
never even considered you.
god, you needed to get out of this bathroom, it was getting hard to breathe.
you quietly made you way out of the back door, though you weren't sure it was necessary, would they even notice you'd gone?
would he?
you didn't want to think about it, your failed frienships, your failed relationship, if you could even call it that.
you're halfway through katsuki's driveway when you realize you didnt drive here and just ran out of money for an uber.
fuck, what were you supposed to do? walk? it was to far, plus you were still midly high, and with no sidewalks you didnt want to risk a car taking you.
before you could come to a decision a voice sounded behind you.
"hey, [name], babe are you okay?" it was sero, his touch made you jump.
"shit! sero, you scared me.." you mumbled trying to wipes tears you know he'd already seen.
"sorry, just..came to check on you. we were looking for you in there."
pitifully the comment made your heart swell. "oh well, just getting some air."
"i get it." and he's silent for a moment. "are..are you okay?"
and the way he asks you, so tender, so soft it almost makes you cry again. "i'm..i–" you choke on your words, and you almost want to tell him.
how out of place you feel despite the 5 of you being friends for as long as you can remember.
though in hindsight, it was only a semester, a single semester of trying and failing to belong.
how stupid you were you. going that long without catching on to bakugos obvious annoyance.
you swallow instead, hard and say, "i'm fine, just—i'm fine." sero doesn't press which your thankful for but the moment doesn't last long as kirishima, foggy eyed and so obviously fadded bursts through the front door and perks when he sees you and sero.
"guys she's out here!" and the words make you cringe, but you can't stop the onslaught of people that crowd you now. you can't make a scene, you can't fuck this up even more.
"so what, you guys are just having all the fun without us?" kirishima says, pouting. hes whiny when he gets high. and it hurts more that you know bakugo probably loves it.
sero responds for you thankfully, slinging a casual arm over your shoulder, something denki's eyes flicker at though you don't notice. "don't be jealous, were comin' back inside now." and sero momentarily looks at your face for approval, you nod.
you don't look at bakugo, so afraid to see his expression, though if you did, you would have saw something some might say is akin to jealousy.
✦ ✦ ✦
main masterlist :: series masterlist :: prev / next
synopsis: katsuki destroys something he doesn't know how to hold. (aka he's mean and pushes you away) (FUCKING BITCHHH)
notes: if you notice the title is different thats bc it is. (previously 'dicksuki destroys' but that felt too unserious.) pt two here!
it was stupid.
just a joke, a nudge. you’d called him grumpy, poked at him for being all bark and no bite. leaned in too close with that pretty smile that always got him to look away.
but this time, he didn’t look away. not one bit.
“god! stop. you’re so fuckin’ clingy all the time. maybe i'm 'grumpy' 'cause you're pissin' me the fuck off! i don’t even like you, alright?! lay off!”
his voice cut sharp through the dorm hallway, louder than he meant it to be.
and your world stuttered.
your smile cracked in half, lips parting like the words physically struck you.
“...oh.”
that’s all you said.
just a breath. one syllable.
but it felt like the earth splitting open.
he saw it happen in real time. the shift in your expression. the way your eyes glossed over, the slight tremble of your lips how your hands came up to hug yourself like that might somehow keep the pieces of you from falling apart.
he already regretted it. immediately. it tasted wrong the second it left his mouth.
“wait. shit. no, i didn’t-”
“it’s fine,” you said too quickly, voice shaking around the edges. “i get it.” he hated your reaction. hated that he caused this.
you turned to leave. he stepped forward like his body knew better than his mouth.
“don’t go..! c’mon, i didn’t mean that, i just-”
“it's fine. you don’t have to explain.”
your laugh was hollow. small. the kind of sound that hurt worse than a scream. like if you made it funny, it wouldn't sting like a bitch.
“thanks for clearing it up, though.”
and you were gone before he could say anything else.
before he could say what he meant to say.
that of course he liked you. that he was in love with you. that he just didn’t know how to handle the way you made him feel so soft, so seen. like every wall he’d ever built was paper in your hands. how everything just felt.. better when you were there.
he didn't know how to fix this. he'd never had to do any fixing before. all he'd ever known was destruction. you were the healing. you were the love.
and not knowing how to handle it, he destroyed you too. the most precious thing in his whole damn life.
you read it on the train, the blur of the city whooshing past. you've been resisting this day, resisting the very idea that touya—dabi, you remind yourself, that's what everyone calls him now, ever since that video came out—probably wouldn't survive.
but it doesn't hurt any less to see the years he was alive stand so impersonally on your phone screen.
you dig the palm of your hand into an eyeball. tears form regardless, hot and fat, spilling down your cheeks and into the soft down of your scarf.
they don't mention that he used to leave out cans of food for the stray cats. he'd stand outside shaking the bag if one of them was late, hands on his hips like a disappointed mom.
there's nothing about how much he liked having his hair played with, that whenever he laid on your chest and you stopped fluffing it, he'd pull back and glare at you until you started again.
nothing about how he used to call you 'love' when he was tipsy, 'my darling' when he was drunk.
not a word about how sore of a loser he was in mario kart, or that he told you once that he'd like to be a really good dad.
"might be cool." you can still remember the sly glance he sent your way. "you know. if the world was different."
prohero!bakugou x singer!reader who were past lovers that broke up because reader almost died from being targetted by a group of villains who had a grudge against bakugou.
prohero!bakugou x singer!reader who haven’t spoken to each other in months, only getting updates about one another from friends or social media posts.
prohero!bakugou who can’t listen to any of your music, can’t even listen to you speaking without getting frustrated—the pain in his chest so unbearable he would leave the room or turn off the tv, feeling like stacks and stacks of bricks were places on his shoulders.
singer!reader who can’t watch his interviews for too long, can’t stare at social media posts about him for too long, because the sight of him brings tears to her eyes. a harsh and heavy lump in her throat that she desperately tries to get rid off, chest heaving with every breath as she tries to blink away the tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
years pass by, and singer!reader gets invited to a pro-hero event. she accepts hesitantly, with one condition. she’ll only be there for one song. the organizers agreed, but they have a condition of their own.
“sing sienna.”
your newest single about bakugou.
your newest single that got leaked.
… you agree.
prohero!bakugou x singer!reader who lock eyes multiple times.
would look just like you
prohero!bakugou who feels his eyes sting.
with a temper like you
singer!reader who tries her best to stay stable, stay focused.
run around like you
prohero!bakugou who wants to run away, to kill whoever fucking planned this; prohero!bakugou who wants to run to you, to comfort and embrace you with his warmth. but he can’t.
jumping in the pool, like you
singer!reader whose voice wobbles slightly, tears falling down her cheeks.
sing to all her pets, in the way i did
prohero!bakugou x singer!reader who make eye contact once more. this time, no one looks away.
‼️NORMALIZE NOT ADDING ANGST TAGS TO YOUR SMUT FICS WHEN THERE'S NONE JUST TO GET AUDIENCE‼️
guys please, respectfully, not everyone want to be freaky all the times. imagine craving some sad, melancholic fics but getting a nastiest smut instead like-
... just pls let us have our own personal, separated space of sadness🥺🥺
